


Guilt

by DamnedNerd



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Mirage tries to comfort her, no beta we die like men, wraith is feeling guilty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamnedNerd/pseuds/DamnedNerd
Summary: Wraith feels responsible for the loss of their latest match and tries to avoid talking about it to Mirage. However, things don't always go according to plan.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> So a couple prefaces here. One, this is my first Apex fanfiction, so I can only hope that I portrayed them well enough! Especially Mirage, I hope I captured his character okay enough! And this is the first thing I've written in a year-year and a half, so apologize in advance if the writing is terrible, but I still hope anyone who takes the time to read this enjoys!

The end of the match was nearing, and it was a close one. Wraith’s squad had made it to the top two, and it was only her and one other enemy, just  _ one _ , and she choked under the pressure - something Wraith almost never did - and denied her team a win because of it.

Wraith had been immediately evacuated from the arena the moment she’d lost. The transition from arena to medical ward was routine by now considering that she’d participated in the games more times than she could count. The teleportation wasn’t like when she traveled through the void - that was always cold and dark, but felt familiar and safe at the same time - instead, the transition felt like she’d been jammed inside a washer; she felt jumbled and tossed around for a few seconds before finding herself standing in front of a wall, her head spinning.

She felt shaky from the transition, reaching out toward the wall with her hand to steady herself. She took in a deep breath to calm down, taking a moment to look at her surroundings. The familiar scene of a waiting room greeted her, the fluorescent lights humming quietly as they bathed the room in pale white light. Rows and rows of chairs were scattered about the room, competitors and nurses rushing around, as well as several media reporters itching to get information for their next story. She could smell the sterilized air of the medical ward, a putrid stench that made her want to book it to the nearest exit, though she knew she was in no condition to. Pain ached throughout her body, and she could feel the blood dripping from the many cuts she’d sustained throughout her match - not to mention she could feel a deep burning in her ankle.

She felt someone touch her shoulder and turned to find one of the nurses spinning her in the direction of an unoccupied room in the ward. As much as Wraith wanted to tear away from her touch and make a break for the exit, she knew it wouldn’t do much. It wouldn’t change the pounding headache she had from the final blow to the head, the burning in her chest from all the gunshots she’d taken throughout the match, the throbbing of her hands from scaling so many walls and clutching her weapons too tight, or the aching in her legs from all of the rough jumps and the long journey across the battlefield since Mirage had insisted that he had a good feeling about Lava City when it turned out to have mid-tier loot and was on the opposite end of the circle. Nor would running take away any of the guilt burdening her heart for the embarrassing loss they’d taken.

Speaking of Mirage, Wraith knew he’d be around here too, in his own room somewhere with a nurse tending to his wounds. He’d be in a similar condition to her too, considering that he and Pathfinder had been taken out before her. When she’d last seen them, she’d been making her way further into Lava Fissure, where the ring was closing around, and they were wiped out by one of the final squads. To make matters worse, it had been all her fault. She’d been the one to make stupid, reckless decisions in the ring, and it had been Mirage and Pathfinder who had paid the price.

A sting in her arm jolted her from her thoughts, and her eyes darted to the cause. She’d nearly forgotten where she was, hardly recalling the nurse sitting her down to prepare the injection. Recovery after the games included a trip to the hospital - Wraith’s least favorite part - where they gave each competitor an injection filled with a mix of drugs that worked wonders after a couple of days. From what Wraith knew, there was a painkiller would eventually numb the aching all over her body, and there was something to increase the recovery rate of the body so that all she’d feel in a couple of days were a bit of aches, and she’d find minute scars where bullet holes should be. After the injection, they patched up any wounds sustained from battle - scrapes from falls, broken noses from the occasional punch in the face from fighting over weapons at first drop, broken bones from bad falls - and then you were free to leave.

Wraith never stuck around for long after the injection. Even if she felt tired and achy, she’d rather force herself through the pain than stick around here. She had medkits in her room for the injuries that weren’t serious enough to warrant the nurse tending to - and even then, she was known for bandaging up her own broken bones time from time. Today was no different, and as soon as she was cleared to leave, she was out the door despite the limp she had when she walked. She knew she’d twisted her ankle at the end of the match when she’d whirled around to fight the final squad; she’d spun around too fast at the footsteps and rolled her ankle, all while taking a Peacekeeper shot to the face.

She hobbled down the hallway of the ward, her eyes glued to the exit when she heard a familiar voice in one of the rooms ahead of her. “Am I all patched up, doc? I bet you don’t always have someone this handsome to take care of.” A pause. “If you thought I was in rough shape, you should’ve seen the other guy.”

Her first instinct would have been to roll her eyes at the cockiness of his words, but after the match today, the sound of his voice made her breath catch in her throat, guilt forming in the pit of her stomach. While it was a relief to hear that he felt well enough to joke, she was worried that beneath the jokester facade, Mirage was seething over the loss. They’d been having a rough streak lately, the three of them, and they were so close to their first win in however many games, and it was all because of her that they’d lost.

She continued down the corridor, picking up the pace despite the protest from her legs begging her to take it slow. But she couldn’t risk catching the eye of Mirage. If he was ready to be discharged, she didn’t want to be in the hallway when he left because she knew he’d come over to see how she was doing. She felt embarrassed, guilty, and exhausted, and she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing those chocolate brown eyes of his clouded with disappointment, especially when it would be directed towards her. 

She passed Mirage’s room as quick as she could on her busted ankle, wincing from the pain but continuing on. It wasn’t much longer until she heard footsteps exit the room; she’d recognize them anywhere, and she knew Mirage was finally finished with his checkup.  _ Shit. _ She’d have to pick up the pace.

It was only a second later she heard a voice in her head.  _ “You may have been spotted.” _

The second she forced her bad ankle to move faster, she heard Mirage shout, “Wraith, wait up!”

Her eyes widened in horror.  _ No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not yet. _

She didn’t make a move to turn around or acknowledge that she’d heard him; she could always blame it on feeling out of it after the injection. Instead, she kept going, a permanent wince wrinkling her face as she carried on in a hurry, her hand sliding across the wall for support as she practically ran.

_ “You might want to be careful.” _

Her ankle screamed as she forced herself to move, the burning almost unbearable. But she could hear Mirage’s footsteps quicken behind her with a, “Hey, Wraith, wait up!” The footsteps drew closer and closer, the sound loud in Wraith’s ears as she ignored the deep aching in her ankle begging her to stop. Her eyes focused on the exit sign just a little further down the hall. She just had to make it and then-

She didn’t get to finish the thought before her ankle finally revolted against her plan to avoid Mirage. It finally gave out, sending her tumbling forward. She braced herself for impact against the floor, but instead of feeling the cold tile floor greet her, she felt warm hands wrap around her, and then someone was at her side. Her eyes flicked up to find Mirage there, his hands dropping to his sides once she was steady on her feet again.

“You okay? I know it can be hard to have such a handsome partner, but you were running awfully fast there for someone with a bad ankle,” he told her, looking down at her.

From her glance, she could see his face was covered in dirt and several small cuts from the arena, his lip split from the first drop where he’d had a punching match over a wingman. His dark chocolate hair was a mess of tangled curls, dirt, and dried blood that fell in his face. She could see the lines of exhaustion etched into his expression, his eyes looking down at her in a mix of concern and something she couldn’t make out, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before the disappointment and anger settled in, she was sure of it.

She dropped her gaze, silently chastising herself for her embarrassing fall, even after the voices had warned her to be careful. As if she hadn’t humiliated herself enough today. “Yeah, I’m fine, just want to get out of here,” she responded curtly, pressing her hand against the wall as she forced herself to continue down the corridor.

Her words weren’t a lie; she did want to get out of here, she just didn’t mention that he was part of the reason why.

She knew Mirage wouldn’t believe that she was fine, but he just followed by her side, falling into step beside her, a movement that felt familiar to her after all their time in the arena. He didn’t make a move to help her - for which she was grateful; she needed to feel capable of doing  _ something _ today - but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her in case she needed assistance again. 

“I know you want to get out of here and all, but why is it that the second I called your name, you seemed to pick up the pace?” Mirage questioned, and Wraith could swear she heard a twinge of sadness in his voice.

“I’m just a little out of it right now and wasn’t in the mood to talk.” A little harsh, but it was true.

Mirage was quiet for a moment, a rare thing for him Wraith had noticed throughout her time working with him. He was always quick witted and had a joke ready to crack at every second, but when he was serious about something she found he was quieter, more vulnerable. She was about to say something when he finally spoke again.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice quiet and curious, with an undertone of...sadness? Hurt? Wraith couldn’t place it, but it was enough to make her pause for a moment to look up at him in surprise. “Is this because Pathfinder and I were down when you went into the final fight? Look, I’m sorry, I know we should have gone with you into the ring-”

That surprised her. “Why are you apologizing?”

Mirage gave a small shrug. “Because I can tell you’re upset about something, and I have a feeling it has something to do with the match.”

Damn, Mirage was good. He had decent intuition time from time - nothing that compared to the voices in her head, but still - and she didn’t know when, but at some point his intuition had helped him learn to read her thoughts. It wasn’t just how she was feeling at the the time, but even in matches he seemed to be able to read her movements often, complimenting her style whenever they’d engage the enemy.

She turned her gaze away from him and continued down the hallway, keeping her voice low. “It isn’t you that needs to apologize for the match.”

“What, you want an apology from Pathfinder? I’m sure that smiling robot is somewhere around here.” She could see him whip his head around in search of their teammate. “Bastard must be lucky that he doesn’t have to worry about injections and bandages, he just gets to have parts replaced.”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. He just wasn’t getting it. Wasn’t he angry with her? Upset that they’d lost? “I swear you’re an idiot sometimes, Elliot.”

“I prefer the word unpre...predict...u-unpredictable! That’s it, I am unpredictable and charming.”

Wraith rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that formed on her lips from his words. It was so Mirage, a facade that she never understood nor really cared for, but it had come to be endearing, though she’d never admit it aloud. 

He softly jabbed her shoulder with his elbow. “Made you smile, didn’t I? But seriously, what’s bothering you? I’m sure I could convince Pathfinder to get you that apology, it’ll probably turn out to be something about how much he loves being your friend and doing better next time, but-”

“It’s not you guys who have to apologize,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh I know what you want, you must want the other squads to apologize, right?”

“What? No.” She let out a frustrated huff, shaking her head as her voice rose a little. She was tired and not in the mood for all of the jokes. “I mean it’s my fault we lost.”

She could hear the surprise in his voice. “Your fault? Wraith, you’re the reason we made it to second place.”

“I’m the reason you and Pathfinder went down in the first place. If I hadn’t been so stupid, we could have had a chance to win.”

Her mind drifted back to the match. It had been a rough trek to the first ring, but they’d made it in time, even managing to take out a couple of squads along the way. They fought hard throughout the next ring, and when it was time for the final ring, there were in the top three. The ring was closing along the outskirts of Lava Fissure and Drill Site and they only had a couple of minutes until it closed. They were close to the border, but when her map pinged with the location of a care package, she couldn’t resist the temptation of it. She knew there would be a chance of encountering another squad, but the promise of good loot this late in the game made the risk worth it. She scouted out ahead, Pathfinder and Mirage not far behind her. She was about to reach the supply drop when she heard,  _ “They’re aiming right at you.” _ and noticed another squad encroaching. She was quick to call out the squad and drop the first member that had reached the care package at the same time she did, quickly looting before his teammates fired a barrage of bullets their way.

She knew they didn’t have good positioning where they were, and with the countdown of the ring about to begin, she knew they couldn’t stay there. She took a few bullets as she darted away, but she managed to travel into the void for safety to reposition herself. She started making her way into the under path of Lava Fissure and was about to tell Mirage and Pathfinder to follow her when she heard them under fire. Pathfinder had charged in first, and Mirage had backed him up, both unaware she’d had to retreat. By the time she whirled around to shoot the squad they’d clashed with, the circle had crossed the area, taking the lives of the three squads, save for her and the final competitor. 

If only she’d have warned them sooner about her plan to retreat and reposition then maybe they could have been spared their fate in the circle. Sure, it wasn’t as if they had  _ actually _ died since the Syndicate had programmed the games to teleport the competitors to the hospital right before death, but she knew the agony that the circle brought along with it. It was scalding, as if they were placed in an oven where every inch of their body burned. The first ring felt more like a light burn from holding food too hot and fresh from the stove, but the final ring - the one Mirage and Pathfinder had been caught in - felt like sticking your whole body on the burner and keeping it there until you passed out from the pain, or until you made it out. It was hell, and she knew she’d rather take a bullet than be caught in the circle. And to think Mirage and Pathfinder could have been spared that fate if she’d have skipped out on the care package was where the guilt had begun.

The guilt had been her downfall. Her thoughts had been clouded after seeing them both disappear in the circle. Once it closed, she turned in time to see Mirage so close to the ring, the agony of the pain from the circle wrinkling his face. His eyes had looked so determined to get in there and fight that she wanted to rush out to reach him. And then she saw the realization cross his face that he wouldn’t make it, and he mouthed the words, “Go get ‘em, champ,” before she saw the light leave his eyes. And then he’d been gone, along with Pathfinder, leaving her alone.

If this had been their first fight in the ring, she might not have cared so much about it. But after spending countless hours and countless matches with Mirage and Pathfinder - especially Mirage since they’d done duos quite a bit in their time - she had found herself coming to care for them more than she’d like to admit. With Pathfinder, she’d grown used to his inability to detect sarcasm and his dark but optimistic point of view. And with Mirage - Elliot, as he’d reminded her countless times to call him outside the arena - she’d grown used to his cockiness and his humorous facade. She’d begun feeling more at ease around him, and she found herself smiling and laughing more around him than she ever recalled in her lifetime. When they were in a match, she found she could often predict what he’d think or say in different situations, and he seemed to be able to do the same with her. She often noticed how easily they could fall into step with each other, and noticed how easy it was to fight by his side, knowing he’d have her back no matter what.

Lately, they’d been on a large losing streak. It didn’t seem to matter what event they’d signed up for; whether it was duos, trios, or whatever, they had a hell of a time making top five lately. After first teaming up with Mirage and Pathfinder, they’d found themselves easily in the top five of many games, and they’d won quite a few over the seasons. But for some reason, they’d lost that the past couple of months, and while Pathfinder didn’t seem too disappointed in it, claiming, “At least we’re still friends and having fun! We’ll kill them all next time!”, she could sense the disappointment in Mirage. He tried to cover it up with his usual slew of jokes, but Wraith could tell he’d been missing the glory days. It didn’t help that the media tabloids were talking about it every time the games came around, and it was all the talk she heard everywhere she went. She’d heard discussions ranging from talks about how Wraith’s team should go their separate ways if they wanted a chance at winning, to talks about how they were washed up champions, how she should be performing better when she could hear voices in her head, and all sorts of comments she couldn’t bother remembering. So when they’d made top ten in this match, and then top five, and then top three, she’d felt that they’d finally gotten their groove back, that they could finally win a match and reclaim the glory of the championship. She’d felt hopeful, and she knew Mirage had been so excited by it too.

And once they were gone and she started blaming herself, she started making mistakes. She checked her information and found she had many spectators watching her - at least twelve other participants of the games, two including Pathfinder and Mirage - and suddenly she felt the weight of the game pressure her. She knew it was her and one other squad, and she was preparing herself to go up against a full squad of three. When she heard footsteps, she realized she only heard the one. She knew there still could be the possibility of a sniper from afar, though the voices in her head hadn’t warned her of one. The footsteps drew nearer, and she drew out the wrong weapon. She’d quickly tried to switch back, but it had been in vain, and she’d lost the match. If she’d have just been more careful, she could have returned to her teammates with good news instead of the sting of the loss.

“We should have been watching the ring more closely, that wasn’t your fault Wraith,” Mirage insisted, peering down at her.

She hadn’t noticed, but she’d stopped walking right before she reached the exit to the medical ward. She could feel herself shaking from the memory of the ring and the guilt, and she noticed how close Mirage was to her, as if he were shielding her from the view of the other competitors in the ward. She noticed a few eyes on them, and she knew this wasn’t a discussion to be had in front of prying ears.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” she said quickly, her voice quiet enough that only he’d be able to hear her. She pushed forward to the door, pausing before pressing it open. “I’ll be fine, Elliot, really. Don’t worry about it too much. I’m just going to go back to my room and get some rest.”

She heard him sigh behind her, and she could picture him running a hand through his hair. “It’s not fine, Wraith. And that’s why you’re going to have the best of company joining you on your walk to your room.”

He shot a look over her shoulder. “You’re planning on walking me to my room?” She suppressed a groan, knowing the more time she spent with him now, the more she’d want to apologize for letting him down. And she was not ready to dive deeper into the topic than she already had. “I told you-”

“Yeah, yeah, you said you’re fine, but that’s one hurt ankle you’ve got there and one bruised ego, and you know what they say, laughter is the best company! Or is it the best medicine?”

“It’s medicine, and trust me I have plenty of medicine in my room.” She pressed open the door of the ward and stepped into the corridor that led to participant lodging. Her room was on the second floor, so she still had a ways to go, and if Mirage joined her for the trip...there would be plenty of time for the conversation she wanted to avoid.

“Look, I know it isn’t something you want to discuss right now, but I don’t want to let you go to your room feeling guilty about something you shouldn’t feel guilty for.” He continued to follow beside her, eyes peering down at her. “You don’t have to talk, you can leave that to me, everyone’s favorite legend and bartender!” In her peripherals, she could see he used his thumbs to point to himself, a goofy grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes, though the smallest of smiles twinged at her lips. “And I’ve told you, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“That might work on our overly opti-opto-optimist um, optimistic robot friend of ours, but you can’t bamboozle the king of bamboozling.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right. Maybe she had been spending too much time around him that he’d been able to pick up on tells about how she was feeling, though it wasn’t as though she could do anything to change that now. She knew how persistent he could be, and she knew that he wouldn’t let this go.

She sighed, taking a pause to let her ankle rest. “Why are you so persistent?”

“Because I care about you.”

Her eyes flickered to him in surprise, knowing she’d never really heard those words from anyone. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised with how close they’d grown over their time, but it was still a shock to hear. It made her pause, her pulse skipping a beat. “What?”

She could see surprise and horror flash across his face for a second, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he gave a chuckle. “Y-you know, as teammates! Yeah, because you care about your teammates right? I care about my holos, golden body shields, different things.”

He did have a point; they were teammates. He wouldn’t care in any other way, not with how closed off from people she always was. She still had so many secrets she hadn’t told him, so of course he’d care for her as a teammate. And yet somehow she felt a twinge of disappointent at that, but she knew she couldn’t dwell on it for long. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She continued down the hall, a deep ache in her ankle making her drag it as they walked.

She could feel Mirage’s gaze, and she could see his face wrinkled in concern in her peripherals. “Are you sure you don’t need help? And please don’t tell me this is your punishment for getting us second place, because I’ll call out my double and you’ll have two of me to deal with. Though is that really a bad thing? I’m sure it’d be quite a blessing actually”

“I can make it.” It’d hurt like hell, but she could do it. “I think having two of you around would make my head hurt worse than my ankle.”

Mirage’s hands clutched at his chest in mock pain as he shook his head. “Your jokes, they pain me so. Come on, I’m not  _ that _ bad. I’ve gotta be better than Pathfinder at least. No offense to the robot, but he is more happy to see me than I am to see my own reflection. It’s a little much sometimes.”

She cracked another small smile and a chuckle. “No, you’re not that bad.”

A grin lit up his face, a sight that only made her pulse speed up. “Okay, now we’re talking. That’s what I like to hear.”

She continued down the hallway in silence, though it was a more comfortable one. She still felt guilty about the match, but her short conversation with Mirage was enough to make her feel a little better about things. He seemed to always have that effect on her lately, she’d noticed. Whether it was a dumb joke or something as small as his smile, she felt calmer, happier.

“Thanks,” she finally said once they reached the elevator. She pressed the button to call it down, knowing this would be a better idea than trying out the stairs.

Looking over at him, she could see the earlier lines of concern had smoothed out, and a small graced his lips. His eyes shifted down toward her, looking much brighter than they had been earlier. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For making me feel better,” she mumbled quietly, not really liking to speak about her feelings aloud. But she felt it needed to be said, because it had meant a lot to her that Mirage had tried to cheer her up.

“Well, you’re welcome. A smile suits you,” he admitted, bumping her shoulder lightly with his. “Plus, we’re a team. When you’re feeling down, I want to help. And like I said, nothing was your fault to begin with.”

She sighed as the elevator door dinged open. Stepping in, she hit the number for her floor and rested against one of the walls. “I still feel like I shouldn’t have gone for that care package. It was too risky, and I should have let you and Pathfinder know I was retreating. And I shouldn’t have gotten so distracted by that afterward, I should have focused more on winning the match.”

Mirage leaned back with one foot against the wall, crossing his arms as he looked over to her. His expression was soft - a sight she’d been seeing more and more - and he shook his head. “Pathfinder was just excited to elima-eliminate some people. There’s a million things we all could have done differently, but it doesn’t change the results. You tried your best, and while no one is as good as I am, you do come to close second. But we’ll get ‘em next time right?”

“So...you’re not mad? Or disappointed?” She did her best to keep her voice steady. The answers to these questions were ones she was dying to hear, but she didn’t want him to know how desperate she was to know, so she kept her expression stoic. 

“What? No, how could I be? I mean, a win would be great, but when isn’t a win great? Plus, earning second place only means I have an excuse to hunt down the top squad in the next match. They’ll never know what came at them - or is it what hit them? Anyway, it’ll work out.”

She couldn’t believe how relieved she felt by his words. He wasn’t angry or disappointed in her. He even seemed more positive about the next match than he had been in a while. This was probably the happiest she’d felt in a while.

The elevator door opened and she walked out, keeping her hand along the wall to steady herself for the rest of the way. Which wouldn’t be too much longer, since her room was only a couple more doors down.

“Um, thank you again, Elliot,” she expressed once she reached her door. She fumbled in her pockets for her key and unlocked the door.

“My pleasure. If you need anything else, I’m just one floor above you. But if you’re good, I can get out of your hair,” he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She nodded, knowing she didn’t need much help now. All she’d be doing would be bandaging her ankle and heating up some food. And yet, a small part of her wanted to think of a reason for him to stay. She’d never invited him in before, and though she was tempted, she decided against it for now. Instead, she offered him a small smile and a wave as she stepped inside. “I’m good, but have a good night.”

He returned the wave with a large grin and turned around to leave, replying, “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She closed the door behind her and locked it, sighing behind it. As much as she hated to admit it, she was already missing him.

  
_Damn._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it <3 And if you did enjoy it and want more, you can always check out my Fiverr under damnednerd and let me know what you want to see!


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